A perfect arrangement
by riga789
Summary: An ancient, bitter feud and over five centuries of hostility between Sanditon and Willingden are supposed to come to an end with this marriage. But what does it really mean for Lord Sidney Parker and Lady Charlotte Heywood? Medieval AU (ish) combining the prompts "Arranged Marriage", "Forbidden Love", and "Enemies to Lovers". For Sanditon Creative's Valentine prompt challenge event


_Late entry for Sanditon Creative's Valentine prompt challenge event. I meant to have this up so much earlier, but work and life got in the way._

_I entirely unintentionally ended up combining three prompts into one for this story. Any mistakes, plot holes, and flimsy plot devices are mine._

* * *

_**Summary:** An ancient, bitter feud and over five centuries of hostility between Sanditon and Willingden are supposed to come to an end with this marriage. But what does it really mean for Lord Sidney Parker and Lady Charlotte Heywood?_

_Medieval AU (ish) combining the prompts: "Arranged Marriage", "Forbidden Love", and "Enemies to Lovers". Written for Sanditon Creative's Valentine prompt challenge event._

* * *

An ancient, bitter feud and over five centuries of hostility were supposed to come to an end with this wedding. A war that would have devastated and ravaged the land had been averted. This marriage was to bring peace – to the two warring provinces, to the whole kingdom.

Yet a radical transformation could not occur in a day, and a tense and grim atmosphere pervaded the Great Hall of Willingden Castle where the wedding feast was underway.

Seated at one end of the high table on the dais, Lady Susan Worcester, chief adviser to the King, had a clear view of everyone at her table as well as of the whole chamber.

The cavernous hall was lit by candlelight and torchlight, and fires burnt in the hearths to keep the people warm on this stormy winter night. And yet, darkness lurked beyond the edges of where the light did not reach, casting the nooks and corners in smoky gloom. Thick stone walls sheltered those inside from the thunder and lightning outside, the smell of forest and rain coming in from the high, narrow windows before being overcome by the aromas of food. Servants moved between the tables, bearing flagons of wine and ale, and platters of roasted meat, vegetables, pies, and freshly baked bread.

The hall was filled to bursting, yet the two sides sat apart – the denizens of Willingden and Sanditon each filling one half of the chamber, crammed at long rows of trestle tables separated by the central aisle. Instead of the celebrations and merriment that usually accompanied a wedding, there was a marked tension in the air and the subdued murmurings of a hundred low voices. The reedy pipes and flutes from the musicians' gallery only added to the sombre and slightly threatening atmosphere.

People on both sides eyed each other with varying degrees of antagonism, from suspicion to outright hatred. But they made no hostile moves, biding their time – for now. There had been numerous attempts at peace between Sanditon and Willingden since the feud started, but none had been sealed by marriage, and the rivalry had always continued. So, no one really knew how things would work between the two provinces from now or what to expect from the peace pact. And so, everyone unanimously looked to take direction from the bride and groom seated sat side by side at the high table.

His face was impassive, she was as serene and poised as a lady ought to be – not one sign of worry marred his serious mien or her cool composure. Not a single expression showed that they begrudged being compelled to wed one of the enemy, that they had been forced into this marriage.

But surely there must be some resentment, people on both sides gossiped. They had all heard the stories from the capital. The arguments and the disagreements at court. The shouting match in the palace gardens that had brought the royal guards running. The constant differences of opinion that had, albeit, lessened considerably about a year or so ago when, as it turned out, they found out that they held similar views on many matters of policy and governance when it came to their provinces.

Still, not one person attending the feast could understand the utter lack of dread on Lady Charlotte's part at having to go through with this alliance, or the absence of any objection on Lord Sidney's. Perhaps, being seasoned courtiers, they were just adept at hiding their true feelings.

Poor, brave Lady Charlotte, the Willingdeners whispered, the good Lady Charlotte, forced to marry that dour, glowering brute, his dark, grim reputation well known from court. Meanwhile the Sanditonians, mostly the men, commiserated with Lord Sidney, younger brother of their own Lord Thomas Parker and a much more magnetic and capable leader of men than him, for having to marry the headstrong, opinionated, and outspoken Lady Charlotte – a Willingdener and a maiden at twenty! – who would probably try to impose all her high and mighty ways on them.

Aware of exactly what kind of speculation was buzzing at the tables, Susan took a sip of her wine as she discreetly studied the newlyweds and the others at the high table.

The bride and groom occupied the seats of honour at the centre, and as tradition dictated, their families and friends sat mingled around them, to show that the two sides were in full accord on this marriage. (Most assuredly, not everyone was).

Charlotte, regal in a gown of blue silk, glittered like a jewel. Sidney, the most sombrely-dressed groom ever seen in the history of the kingdom, was nonetheless resplendent in his customary dark clothing – black silk tunic, black breeches, black boots, and black swordbelt, but had made an exception with a blue doublet that matched the colour of his bride's dress. This outward expression of their connection was meant to leave no doubt of their intention to go ahead with their alliance.

Yet the bride and groom had said not a single word to each other so far, apart from the vows they had exchanged during their wedding ceremony. Indeed, they had barely even looked at each other except, once again, when they exchanged vows. That, Susan supposed, was for the best.

Charlotte conversed with her new sister-in-law, Lady Mary Parker, sat at her left. Mary had been one of the easiest to convince about the dire need for – and the many advantages of – this marriage. She was well aware of the urgency of curbing her lord husband's ill-thought-out schemes, if not entirely cognisant of the extent of his follies. Moreover, as the daughter of a seasoned politician herself, she knew that a lasting peace between the two long-warring kingdoms, achieved through such a momentous political alliance, could only bode well for Sanditon, unlike the disaster her husband imagined.

But then, Tom Parker was too busy bemoaning the loss of the gold that he would have gained from Campion, which he would have used to advance his grand plans for Sanditon. He'd been denied that as a result of this marriage, and was most aggrieved about it.

Mary knew her husband believed it was Willingden's influence at court, through Lady Charlotte, that had convinced the King to stop disbursing funds to Sanditon. But after meeting Charlotte and the rest of the Heywoods, she wasn't sure what to think. She trusted Sidney, and knew that he would never do anything to endanger Sanditon's people or its future. Besides, what choice did they have? The King had ordered peace between Sanditon and Willingden through this marriage, and who could refuse a royal decree?

To Charlotte's right sat Sidney, and to his right sat Charlotte's brother William Heywood, Lord of Willingden, a sensible young man who seemed to very much take after his late father. The two new brothers-in-law did not converse either. In five hundred years, the closest Sanditon and Willingden had ever come to peace had been during the reigns of their respective fathers, who had preferred to cease active hostilities and let the other side _just be_. Sidney and William had each actively agreed with and supported his own father's peace policy. Yet, centuries of mistrust could not be undone in one evening, and the young Lord of Willingden was yet to reconcile to the abhorrent idea that his sweet sister had been the sacrifice necessary to achieve this peace pact with the enemy.

So William devoted his entire attention to the delightful Lady Georgiana Lambe, seated to his right, which had the added advantages of irritating his new brother-in-law, who happened to be her guardian, and not having to talk to him.

Yet Sidney showed no unease at being ignored and isolated by his new wife and her family at the centre of the table. Indeed, he lounged in his chair with remarkable indifference, eating his venison pie and drinking his wine, seemingly the most nonchalant and carefree man in the entire Great Hall. His demeanour did nothing to ease the worries and suspicions on either side.

The others at the high table were Sidney's family – his older brother Tom, Lord of Sanditon and one of the two most dissatisfied faces in the hall, his sister Lady Diana and younger brother Lord Arthur, his closest friend Lord George Babington, whose wife Lady Esther, seated on Mary's other side, was a close friend of Charlotte's from court; and Charlotte's family – her sister Lady Alison, another brother, Lucas, their mother Lady Heywood, and Susan herself, her mentor.

Lord Babington, seated at the opposite end of the table, caught Susan's eye and raised his goblet of wine to her in salute. Susan accepted the compliment by mirroring his gesture, and both allowed themselves subtle yet triumphant smiles that her plan – well, the execution of the plan was hers; the idea had come from someone far more genius – had gone off smoothly, without a hitch, and achieved everything it was supposed to.

Peace between Sanditon and Willingden was secured, and Susan did not think she was being foolish in believing that it would truly last this time. Tom Parker's grandiose plans, which would have left his province in crippling debt and practically a vassal to another, had been scuppered. Sidney had been saved from becoming an ignominious sacrifice at the altar of his older brother's ambitions and Lady Eliza Campion's selfish disregard for his feelings. And Eliza's own machinations that threatened the peace and stability of the kingdom – and Susan's own position at court – had been foiled. And Charlotte and Sidney… well.

Susan glanced at Eliza, seated at one of the tables just below the dais. The wealthiest woman in the kingdom, and undoubtedly the most elegant as well, the widow who currently ruled the province of Campion as regent for her five-year-old son was staring up at the high table at Sidney, trying to look heartbroken. She was not entirely successful, for her green eyes were filled with a bitter rage and unshed tears, which were actually tears of fury at her plans being thwarted. Every now and then, she would shoot a decidedly murderous glance at Tom Parker, who she had no doubt made the scapegoat responsible for the collapse of her plans. After all, she could not accuse Susan, nor challenge the King.

Thanks to her spies, Susan had learnt all about Eliza's ambitions well in time to stop them. Lady Campion's plan had been devious in its simplicity – aided by how single-minded and oblivious to anyone else's concerns her unsuspecting victim Tom Parker could be. Under the guise of helping him, Eliza would have practically enslaved the population of Sanditon – she had done it once already with Morland, a small province to the north of Campion. She would have certainly shackled Sidney to herself for life, reducing him to nothing more than a prized trophy to be paraded around. If not for this cleverly arranged marriage, Eliza would have easily achieved her goal.

About halfway through the feast, Arthur, who had enjoyed several meat pies and multiple helpings of venison so far, got up from his seat. He made his way to Sidney at the centre of the table, and whispered something in his brother's ear. Sidney nodded. "If the lady is willing, then by all means, please." He spread his hand in a "go ahead" gesture.

Susan watched as Arthur went around the table to the other side and stopped before Charlotte's sister Alison. "May I have this dance, my lady?"

Alison accepted with a gracious smile. As they walked past her to the open space between the dais and the trestle tables, Susan sent them both a nod of approval.

The Great Hall had fallen completely silent, even the musicians had paused. They only restarted playing – something much livelier than the melancholy dirge they had been producing so far – when Arthur looked up at them and gestured expectantly.

Arthur and Alison were the catalyst for the small minority in the Great Hall that saw the sense in making friendly overtures to the other side, but had been hesitant in the face of the prevalent suspicion and hostility. Now, they were emboldened to do the same as Alison and Arthur, and mingle. Lord Francis Crowe asked Clara Brereton to dance. William Heywood (inwardly sighing because he knew he had no choice but to accept the pact, and that he had to set an example for his people) escorted Georgiana to the floor. Sir James Stringer, after a mournful glance up at the high table at where Charlotte was seated, asked one of the Beaufort sisters. Babington raised an eyebrow at his wife, who sighed deeply as if compelled to perform some great chore, but smirked at her husband as she allowed him to escort her from the high table. Soon, the makeshift dance floor was filled with couples swaying and twirling and whirling.

Sidney did not ask Charlotte to dance with him. _That_, Lady Susan knew, was for the best.

Babington returned his wife to her seat at the high table after one turn about the floor, and then took the chair vacated by William Heywood. He and Sidney fell into a low-voiced discussion that no one save Charlotte could probably hear.

Seated close by, Tom Parker's face soured – a mix of anger, jealousy, and despondency. He poured himself another cup of wine and downed it in one go, aware that no one at the table was paying him any attention, not even his own wife. His cup had not been dry so far, and did not stay dry for the rest of the feast either.

The feast went on as evening turned to night, gradually seeming more like a wedding celebration with both sides mingling – albeit still warily. The atmosphere was still charged, and there remained an undercurrent of hostility. Tempers on both sides remained prickly and quick to rise. The more level-headed leaders like James Stringer and Charlotte's second brother, Lucas, had to more than once use their authority over men – and even a few women – who were ready to fight at the drop of a hat.

When Charlotte pushed back her chair to get up from her seat, Sidney was on his feet in a flash, giving her his hand, to the complete surprise of everyone in the hall. So far, there had been no interaction at all between them whatsoever, to the point where they had behaved as if their new spouse might not have even existed. Most of the Willingdeners shot to their feet as a deference to their lady. The Sanditonians rose too, some automatically, a rare few as a genuine sign of respect, for Lady Charlotte was one of them now. Still others were simply curious and craned their necks to see what was happening at the high table.

Traditionally, at the end of the wedding feast, the bride and groom would be carried off to their bedchamber, he hoisted by his brothers, cousins, and friends, and she carried by a brother or a trusted male cousin and surrounded by her sisters and friends to ensure her modesty was preserved. Those accompanying the newlyweds would laugh and make ribald jokes all the way to the door of their chambers. Yet, if the idea had even crossed anyone's mind, it was immediately discarded at the look Sidney flashed around the room, warning anyone who dared to step forward with dire consequences.

Everyone in the Great Hall watched, agog, as Sidney bowed before his lady wife, and her hand still in his, raised it to his lips to press a kiss to her fingers. His face was still inscrutable, but those closest to the high table could see that his eyes were no longer unaffected. Charlotte held his gaze, her own enigmatic, but there was a imperceptible quirk to her lips as his darkened gaze beheld her.

It was all over in less than a moment, so that most of the onlookers who had witnessed the moment dismissed it as a figment of their imagination, sure that they were mistaken. Only those closest to the dais had even seen that wordless exchange, and most of them took Sidney's reaction at least to be eagerness. For, what groom wouldn't look forward to bedding his new bride? Especially one as beautiful and feisty as Lady Charlotte? As the drunk Lord Crowe was heard snorting crudely to someone in a corner of the room, "She'll be a lively handful in bed!"

But others – Mary Parker, infinitely more observant than her husband; James Stringer, who had quietly harboured feelings for Charlotte and mourned his lost chance at love; and Eliza Campion, who had not stopped questioning how her carefully laid plans had been so thoroughly and effectively destroyed – wondered at the oddity of that interaction. For the first time, they suspected that not everything was as it seemed.

Charlotte turned and regally curtsied to Lady Susan, who found herself suddenly and unexpectedly overcome by emotion. Over the past two years, this young lady had become both daughter and protégée to her. She was proud of Charlotte's accomplishments, and her determination to do better by her people and the kingdom. Charlotte's time at court was only beginning, and her mentor knew she would shine, even more so by facilitating one half of the most significant alliance in the kingdom's history and marrying another politically accomplished mind. Lady Susan could do nought but nod, giving her her blessings.

Charlotte left, with her mother, Alison, Mary, and Esther following her, while Susan, Diana, and Georgiana stayed behind.

Sidney didn't watch his bride leave, nor did he take his seat again, turning instead to Babington and Crowe, who had joined him where he stood behind the high table. The three men fell into conversation, but what they discussed no one knew, for they still spoke in low tones and the conversation was clearly private.

It was also quite short. Babington clapped Sidney on the shoulder, and Crowe said something that caused Babington to let out a hoot of laughter, and Sidney to roll his eyes and shoot his two friends a look of fond exasperation. Then, before anyone quite realised what was happening, Sidney turned on his heel and strode out of the Great Hall.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Sidney shut and locked the door to Charlotte's chamber, which had been allotted to them for their wedding night. It was a large yet cosy room, with a blazing fire burning in the fireplace, tapestries on the walls, carpets on the floor, and dominated by a featherbed. It didn't feel sparse even though most of Charlotte's personal possessions had been packed away into trunks to be taken to the capital, to the home she would now share with Sidney.

Across the chamber, Charlotte turned from the window, where she'd been watching the storm outside. They stared at each other for a long moment.

Despite – or because of – the gravity of the moment, Sidney took a moment to listen and ensure that no one was spying outside their door. The second he focused his attention solely on his new bride, she flew to him. She was in his arms a moment later, and he crushed his lips to hers.

They clung to each other, hands grasping, gripping, mouths fevered against each other's.

"_Charlotte_," Sidney said hoarsely, desperately, overcome.

"We did it!" Charlotte laughed in exult, pressing kisses to his cheeks, his jaw, his lips again. "It worked, Sidney!"

But after _months_ of waiting – of the unbearable torment of knowing they might be separated, of being unable to be with each other the way they wanted, of having to pretend he was _indifferent_ to her – Sidney had no thought for anything other than his bride. Claiming her mouth in a kiss that entirely stole her breath away, he swung her up in his arms and carried her to the bed.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Later – _much_ later – they lay tangled together, all the passion and intensity finally spent, allowing the relief after weeks of nerve-wracking uncertainty to finally seep into them.

Charlotte turned and propped herself on her elbow, draping her other arm over Sidney's chest, palm flat against his steadily beating heart. He reached up and covered her hand with his own. She looked at him, eyes shining, no longer able to keep the jubilant smile off her face, and he couldn't help but respond, though he was far too enamoured by how bewitching she looked.

"You did it, my clever wife."

"Say that again," she sighed.

"'Clever?' Clever Charlotte."

She scrunched her nose at him, swatted him on his arm.

Grinning, he curled an arm around her waist and pulled her up closer so that he could nuzzle the soft silken skin of her bare shoulder. "_Wife_," he said huskily. "My clever, clever wife. You did it."

"_We_ did it. I merely provided the idea. It was you who had to deal with Tom and Eliza. I can't imagine that was in any way easy. We wouldn't be married today if you hadn't succeeded, Sidney."

"Thank god Lady Susan manoeuvred the King into portraying it as a royal command, so that neither Tom nor Eliza could disobey. If I'd ruined it by saying or doing something oafish and blockheaded, I'd have given us away. Tom would have never agreed to the pact, and Eliza would have most certainly tried to circumvent it."

Charlotte let out an un-ladylike snort. "From what I heard, it didn't take much manoeuvring. The King was positively galvanised at the thought of taking credit for the idea of the alliance between Willingden and Sanditon." She stroked her hand over his cheek, feeling the slight scrape of his stubble against her palm. "And you wouldn't have ruined it. I know. I've always had complete faith in you."

He kissed her then, a tender kiss full of gratitude for believing in him, trusting him. He hadn't been afraid to do his part; in fact, no one had been more determined than he. Failure wasn't an option, not when it meant he would lose Charlotte.

Besides, the alliance was too important. As much as this idea had been borne out of finding a way for them to be together, this was bigger than him and Charlotte. Without their marriage, the people of Sanditon would definitely be facing ruination. And Willingden wasn't as immune to upheaval as it would have the rest of the kingdom believe. It had been isolated in its power for too long. It needed allies too, and soon.

That was where the sheer genius of Charlotte's idea lay. No one had expected Sanditon and Willingden would ever agree to becoming allies, so no one had ever tried to make them. Until now.

"Well, I had no choice. It was either marry you and be happy and see Sanditon prosper, or marry Eliza and see Sanditon and myself ruined." His voice was a low rumble as he tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear. His hands slowly roamed over her back, touching because he finally could, because she was his as he was hers. They were together now, they could do as they pleased. He could spend hours, days exploring, learning how to please her, or just curl up together and hold her.

"Would you have married me if you didn't love me?" Charlotte asked. "If we really had been coerced into the alliance?"

"I'd have been a fool not to marry you. And I would have fallen in love with you, sooner rather than later. I did now, didn't I, no matter how much I tried to resist?"

"You didn't resist nearly as much as I did," she said softly. She had been so confused by her own feelings, not understanding why she kept seeking him out against her own will and better judgement, why his opinion mattered even though they argued and fought like the mortal enemies they were.

"I couldn't," he said simply, cheeks turning a little pink as he remembered how he'd blurted out his feelings for her in the middle of a blazing argument, because he couldn't deny it to himself any longer how deeply in love he was with her. He was tired of hiding how he felt, and he'd just wanted to stop arguing and fighting all the time.

He'd been in agony for a sennight after, barely able to meet Charlotte's eye during council meetings, struggling to deal with his own awkwardness and hers, and utterly miserable because he was sure she didn't reciprocate his feelings. He had no idea what any of it would mean, for himself and her, for Sanditon and Willingden.

When she'd finally come to him, nervous and bold at once, and told him she returned his affections, that his love wasn't unrequited, he'd felt such overwhelming joy that his head had spun and he thought his heart would burst from his chest. Euphoric seemed too inadequate a word to describe how he was feeling.

Yet their bliss was perforce short-lived. On its heels came the sobering reality that their path was ridden with complications and hurdles. It brought with it a different kind of torment, the one of forbidden love.

Sneaking away from their own retinues to spend a few clandestine moments together wasn't exciting as the poets and bards would have you believe. The danger of being caught made it nerve-wracking. The stolen moments were more precious than diamonds and pearls, and were never enough. There was never enough time. Their trysts, full of frantic kisses and words of love exchanged in heated whispers, took on a desperate tone.

Unable to help himself, Sidney had once asked Charlotte to dance with him at a ball thrown by Lady Susan. It had simultaneously been the most glorious experience of his life and a disaster. They'd very nearly divulged their feelings in front of half the court.

No one – _no one_ – could know they were in love. Tensions were rising between Sanditon and Willingden again, with border skirmishes and raids on both sides. If word got back to their respective homelands that Sidney Parker and Charlotte Heywood were in love, a full-blown war would break out between them.

Then, spies had brought news from Sanditon to the capital, of Tom negotiating Sidney's marriage to Lady Eliza Campion in exchange for monetary support. Being lord of Sanditon, Tom was well within his rights to do so, regardless of how unsound the decision was, and Sidney's rage had known no bounds. He and Charlotte had never felt so helpless and hopeless.

Charlotte's idea had been borne of desperation, but even then they would not have been able to do anything about it by themselves. As luck would have it, Lady Susan, the very person whose help they needed, had summoned them to her quarters.

They should have not been surprised that Susan already knew about them – she had spies everywhere, and they had become rather careless and taken risks in their desperation to see each other alone, as she informed them with an arch look, much to their blushing chagrin. They should have equally not been surprised that she knew rather a lot more than they did about the news from Sanditon of Tom and Eliza's plans, or of the tensions brewing between Willingden and Sanditon.

They had thrown themselves at her mercy. When Charlotte had tentatively explained her idea, Lady Susan had welcomed it with a positively delighted glee. They hadn't imagined she would be this easy to convince, but as she'd explained, the best plans were the simplest ones, and she saw no need to complicate the situation with anything more convoluted.

"The matter is rather more dire than we might have imagined," Lady Susan had said, pacing before them elegantly as they sat like two errant children half expecting a scolding, "and the consequences far more severe if Eliza were to succeed. So you see, the solution you propose is quite perfect. A good idea can accomplish many things."

She'd stopped her pacing to regard them with an air that was at once maternal and teasing. "Besides, after the ball a fortnight ago, the question of your marriage has become rather urgent, hasn't it?"

Recalling how he had been unable to take his eyes off Charlotte throughout the entire dance, Sidney didn't think he'd ever blushed harder in his life.

"Indeed," Lady Susan had blithely continued, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips, "If all does come to pass as we hope, we might need to _thank_ Eliza Campion and her meddling for making it all possible."

Sidney would have readily thanked Lady Campion a thousand times by now, if he wasn't so sure that she'd try to scratch his eyes out, and then proceed to exact revenge on every last inhabitant of Sanditon and Willingden, starting with his family and Charlotte's.

"It seems wicked to say this," Charlotte said, bringing him out of his reminiscing, "But it appears that we do owe Lady Campion our gratitude after all. Not that we could ever tell her so."

He marvelled at how in tune their thoughts were. "No indeed. We're going to have to deal with her and the others soon enough."

"How long do you think it will be before people start figuring out that we weren't exactly…"

"Strong-armed into getting married for the sake of a peace treaty? I think we can safely assume that some of them already know. Like Arthur and Alison, for instance."

Charlotte laughed. "She did make it surprisingly easy for me to slip away from our quarters anytime I needed to come and see you."

"Sounds about right. It was around the same time that Arthur suddenly became the most responsible member of the Parker household at court. It was how I could get away so often to come and meet you," Sidney said, feeling a rush of fondness for his younger brother.

"Tom and William and everyone else are not going to be as easy to convince."

"Well, we could argue that we were being politically strategic," Sidney grinned. "After all, they do say you should keep your friends close and your enemies closer."

Charlotte burst out into a sudden fit of giggles – a thoroughly delightful sound that he hadn't heard from her so far, and he resolved to do everything in his power to make her laugh so at least once every day.

"I'm sure _this_ is not at all what they meant!" she exclaimed.

"Well, too bad," Sidney rolled them so that she was under him, settling between her legs. "For I don't intend to let you out of my sight as much as I can help it. You're my enemy after all, I've got to keep my eye on you."

He nuzzled her beneath her jaw, and then began scattering kisses down her neck, over her collarbones, across her shoulders, the tops of her breasts.

"And your hands?" she quipped breathlessly as his fingers made their down her stomach to her thighs, leaving a trail of sensation in their wake.

"As often as I can!" He laughed and kissed her.

He knew their path forward was neither simple nor clear just because they were married now. In fact, there would only be more challenges and complications to deal with. Tom's anger. Eliza's backlash and revenge. Resentful family members. Two enemy provinces having to become proper allies.

But Sidney had Charlotte by his side, and together they would face anything.

* * *

_Thanks for reading! Leave a review, let me know what you think! :)_


End file.
